The snow was blown around in great clumps, its chill sending the people who had business at Gatekeepers hurrying through the gold double doors into the building. That wasn’t very many people though; Gatekeepers was not a place where one went to window shop. That suited Creep just fine as he stalked through the weather towards the building. He wasn’t there to window shop anyway.
Creep stepped inside the building. In appearances, Gatekeepers seemed to resemble a bank, with people behind glass windows and people lined up without. But there were few people here today. Gatekeepers was generally not a busy place; its tall halls never saw much activity. This all suited Creep just fine; he wasn’t here to make a scene like at the party. He needed information, and he wasn’t going to leave until he had it.
His shoes tapped loudly on the black marble floor as he walked towards the booths. Those standing around saw him and backed away from him, fearful of this bandaged man who walked so resolute. Their faces displayed uneasiness, anxiety etched into their features. Creep didn’t care if they recognized him as the person who had shot up the party three months ago. It wasn’t like he was here for a repeat performance.
The teller in the booth that Creep was walking towards looked up. He did a slight double take, as if he was not very surprised by Creep’s appearance. That wasn’t an unusual thing. There were so many things here that were stranger than a kid with a wrapped-up head. Creep stood in front of him, shifting around on his feet.
“Yes, sir, how can I help you?” the teller, a portly man with silver-rimmed spectacles, asked Creep.
“I would like some information, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Creep said.
“Certainly sir, just a moment.” The man bent down to get something out of his booth. “Pardon me sir, are you quite alright?”
“What?” Creep asked.
“Your head,” the man said as he stood back up with a large book. “You appear to be injured.”
“Oh, the bandages,” Creep said. “Well, yeah, I’m kind of a real headcase.”
The portly man chuckled and opened up the book. “What is it that you’re looking for?”
“I need to know who passed over from this world to the other on the night of June 16, 2006,” Creep said.
The man stopped and looked up at him, a frown on his face. “You’re from the other world, aren’t you? Here it’s 1925.”
Creep nodded. “Yeah, I crossed over. Is that gonna be a problem?”
“That’s not going to be,” the man said. “But I can’t tell you what you want to know. Company policy forbids disclosing those records.”
“Oh, okay,” Creep said as he reached inside his trenchcoat. “You know, I happen to have a policy too.” He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the man. The man’s eyes instantly went wide and his face went white. “I kill people that annoy me. You’re getting close to annoying me.”
The reaction of the people around Creep was instant panic. There were no predatory enchanted there to try to make a heroic bid to stop him, just ordinary people and enchanted. While most of them began running for the door as fast as they could, pushing each other out of the way in their efforts to get away from Creep, one older woman to his immediate right descended into hysterics. Instead of running towards the doors she backed into the corner and began to scream loudly.
“Shut up!” Creep yelled at her. The woman paid him no mind, but continued screaming. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh of disgust Creep reached back into his coat with his other hand and pulled out another gun. One bullet passed through the woman’s purse, shredding it and sending her various feminine paraphernalia flying everywhere. One bullet passed through her arm, sending blood all over her formerly immaculate white dress. One bullet passed through her head, sending her brains splattering on the wall behind her. Her screams stopped and her lifeless body slumped to the floor. Creep turned back to the man, a glint in his eye.
“She was annoying,” he said. “So I killed her. See what I mean?”
The man nodded. “I-I’ll just go in the back and get those names,” he said.
Creep leaned forward and jammed the gun into his forehead. The man blathered and a dark spot appeared on the crotch of his pants.
“You’re not going out of my sight,” Creep said. “I’m going with you.” He vaulted over the booth beside the ma, who promptly jumped back in fright. Creep snorted and motioned towards the back with his gun. “Get a move on.”
The man nodded and tried to compose himself. Creep clicked his tongue, like how one might goad on a horse. He was rewarded with faster movement on the man’s part. He trundled ahead of Creep, opening the door behind his booth that led into the main offices of Gatekeepers.
“You first,” Creep said with a wave of his gun. The man walked on ahead, shaking and muttering as he lead Creep along. The back offices of Gatekeepers did not appear to be that different from the back offices of any other place. There were collections of desks about, with piles of papers and other things upon them. Workers moved among the desks like in any other office, only here there were werewolves, fairies, and imps interspersed with humans.
They all stopped when they saw Creep holding a gun to the back of their coworker. For a few moments, they simply stared at him as he goaded the man on through the crowd. A werewolf finally decided to burst from the crowd. It leapt at Creep, snarling and changing to wolf form. Two bullets through its head put it on the floor. At that point the rest of them panicked and rushed for a door that did not have a psychopathic gunman near it. The office was empty in no time at all.
“Get along,” Creep said to the man, who had stopped and stared at the body of his fallen coworker.
“You…you… he-he was a good man!”
“No he wasn’t,” Creep said. “He may have been a good werewolf, but he was not a good man.”
“You’re a monster,” the man said.
“A monster with a gun pointed at your head,” Creep said. “Move along.”
This made the man move, though he did so with a tear in his eye. He lead Creep to a room in the back of the main office with the word “Records” written on the door. Creep smiled and holstered the gun that was not pointed at the man’s head.
“Good,” he said. “You’re earning your keep.”
The man opened the door. Creep kicked him inside and followed after him. The records room was a small affair, ten feet by ten feet, with shelves of files all around it. Creep looked around, trying to find what he was looking for himself. Frustrated by his inability to do so, he turned to the man.
“June 16th,” he barked. “Now.”
“Why?” the man asked. “Why do all this for just a list of names?”
“Don’t ask questions,” Creep said. “People who ask questions are annoying. Remember what happens to annoying people?” He moved the gun closer to the man’s face to remind him of the consequences of getting on his nerves. The man swallowed and walked over to the rows of files. With a nervous thumb he flipped through them until he pulled one out. He held it out to Creep and it was taken from his shaking hand. Creep opened up the file with his free hand and looked through it. Satisfied, he closed it and lowered the gun.
“You’re a good man,” he said to his hostage as he tucked the folder in the back of his pants.
There were the sounds of hurrying feet and loud voices. Creep cocked his head to hear them better. With swift motions he shut the door and locked it from the inside. He turned to the man, pulling a roll of his black bandages out of his coat pocket.
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
“Sorry, man,” Creep said as he began to tie up the man’s hands. The man tried to struggle, but he received a gun in his face for that, so he stopped fighting and let Creep tie up his hands. Once the man’s hands were bound, Creep put a gag in the man’s mouth and began to wrap up his head so that he would resemble him
“Hey, who’s in there?” asked a voice from out in the main office.
“Creep,” Creep replied.
“Well, Mr. Creep, you’re coming out in five seconds or we’re breaking down the door.”
The voice outside began to count down. Creep shoved one of his guns into the man’s hands and shoved him out in the middle of the room. Then he backed up beside the doorway and drew his other gun. The countdown ended and the door fell inward with a loud thud. Two cops burst into the room. The man, bound up in Creep’s bandages, mumbled and moaned as loud as he could.
“Shit, he’s got a gun!” one of the cops yelled. He fired on the man in the bandages. The unfortunate decoy fell over, blood staining his white shirt. Creep made his move, putting a bullet in the backs of the cops’ heads. They fell over, little blue pins on the bowling alley of life.
The gunshots brought the sound of more feet, thundering loud through the offices. Creep ran to where his decoy had fallen and retrieved his other gun. As the other cops, a satyr, a human, and a dwarf, entered the Records room he let loose with a barrage of bullets. The satyr went first, his goat legs sprawling as he crashed down in the doorway. A shot went past Creep’s head and he opened fire on the human. Hot lead went through his body, bringing him down to the floor beside his comrade. The dwarf came to a stop and tried to retreat. He received a shot in the kneecap and his right eye for his pains.
Creep did not waste any more time. He headed for the door as fast as he could, the sound of more footfalls letting him know that he was very much a wanted man. More police came into the main offices as he passed through the doorway. They opened fire the instant they saw him; the bullets whizzing by him and burying themselves in the wall around him. Adrenaline gave him unlooked for speed, and he sprinted through the offices as fast as he could, bullets shredding his surroundings. The window was his goal, his method of escape from this place. He drew his gun and fired ahead, shattering the window and preparing the way for his exit. Gathering himself together, he jumped up and forward, crossing his arms to shield himself from any glass that was still left. The frame broke before his momentum, all its little pieces flying into the alley way along with Creep. He landed on both feet and ran on down the alley as fast as he could, a dark demon flying into a snow-white day.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Original Text:
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,855 Reviews
Connie! I'm not sure if you want these parts reviewed at all. I know you planned on making revisions. I'm sure my two cents can't hurt. I'm not going to read the other reviews, so I'm sorry if I repeat things.
That seems kind of redundant.
You essentially said this in the first paragraph.
I feel like this has probably been pointing out, but it seems there's a severe lack of motive that makes Creep character weak to all who don't know what he's doing in this world. This chapter was really to the point, which was fun, yet it only further shows that Creep's motives are very hazily displayed. We can see that he has issues with the Gatekeepers, but as to what he actually wants to do to them... kill them all? Kill everyone they're associated with? For revenge? Or, for political reasons? And how do his motives for the Gatekeepers match up with his obvious deep anxieties about what he's doing, the softness that actually exists within him that we saw at Concetta's? He's killing despite those feelings that exist within himself, which makes his motives even more questionable. His character and motivations seems to alter too much for the reader to follow.
This is short, sorry. I just don't want to be repetitive. And I know you have plans for this.
<3 Clo
Hey, Connie! =D
Sorry for the long wait. I have time to blow, so I thought I'd spend it critiquing; and my first items to critique are the ones I promised to do.
I liked this chapter. I especially liked how you jumped to the bank from his moment with Concetta. That was really cool. xD No lolly-gagging. Straight into it. Lovely. ^_^
I think to slow this down a tad, you could introduce more characters. We pretty much only know two: Concetta and Creep (I almost said Connie, teehee). And the Nail, but she's dead. xD I hope we meet more people eventually? It's pretty much straight action, sex, then action again. Even James Bond had talky-talky moments that proved important. Throw some of those in there. Creep doesn't know everything, obviously. He kills random people. Concetta seems to have some sense, but she's not there watching his back. Throw some nerdy geek or someone out there.
I felt this bank reminded me of the Ministry of Magic from Harry Potter. XD That's not a problem at all. I was just easily amused. The bank I imagined resembled the image of the Ministry, lol.
So, I enjoy reading this straight action.. but I don't read it all at once either, so I'm unsure how it is altogether. I can only suggest (after reading Jigs' and Kylan's reviews) to throw in brief conversations with people to give answers as well. Again, Creep doesn't know everything. Have someone knock some sense into him while he's out fighting the poo out of people.
Questions, find me. Blah, blah, blah...
Keep writing! =D
Jabber, the One and Only!
Conrad -
Interesting, as always. You're definately contructing a different kind of character. Very unique. I can't wait to see all the dimensions add to him.
But I have to agree with Jig. I wasn't partial to this chapter, mainly because (as Jig pointed out) the way you wrote it was kind of awkward and unappealing, especially the whole Gatekeeper's scene. The way you transitioned from relative peace to pandemonium was not very well executed. But I understand your problem, too. A scene is always watered down when you describe the actions of people as a whole, instead of describing the actions of one or two people. This bird's eye view you present us with is dry and boring, like seeing things through a security camera. Plus, it's not like Creep was waving the gun around or anything, so why would everyone break out in chaos immediately? It would take a while, I think, for people to realize that someone had a gun. The whole murder of the old woman wasn't executed very well either. I think that it could be improved by using a less wooden narrative tone. Make things less matter-of-fact and blow-by-blow and more touch-and-feel and staccato. Savvy?
Also. Why? The big question. Why does he want to know about the crossing over? And why is he so impervious to the 'police'. Why can't they ever get a clean shot at him?
I would cut those two words. 'Real' seems redundant. And 'portly' is an unnecessary adverb. Plus, JK Rowling uses it on a regular basis.
Why would the man chuckle at that comment? I would be kind of repulsed and disturbed, personally.
I like this.
Rework this metaphor to look something like this. The way you've got it set up now made me wince.
This doesn't seem like something a 1920s cop would say. But, whatever.
So, all I can say is that the constant action and violence is wearing me a little ragged.
*is off to part seven*
-Kylan
That's a horrid opening sentence. You might consider breaking it into something like:
"The snow was blown around in great clumps. Its chill sent the people hurrying through the gold double doors of the building."
There weren't many people; Gatekeepers was not a place one went to window shop.
(A highly unoriginal and awkward-sounding name, by the by)
Complete repetition. Cut it.
You used the opening part of this sentence a few lines before; again with the repetition.
stop repeating things
any double-take, is I think, an indication of surprise or recognition
telling not showing. It was clumsily done.
Quite aside from feeling amateur and cheesy, this is telling. Why tell when. moments later, you show us his policy? A message which would, no doubt, have been taken by the telling and far more emphatically. So you tell, show and after that tell again
Following this, you repeat it again moments later. It gets very tiring. Personally, I would get rid of at least two of them, the first I would delete, the second I would reword and the third "people who ask questions are annoying" I would keep just as. But something has to be done about it all, okay?
*sigh*
really? he'd prefer to have been slow? Unexpected, perhaps.
*
I really didn't enjoy this chapter. Not so much the content - that was fine, I guess - but in terms of how it was written, compared to the others, this was nowhere near as good. Did you rush it maybe?
The whole killing of the old woman confuses me - initially you presented Creep as a psycho without reason; we've since come to know he's motivated by revenge and out to kill certain people only and now, all of a sudden, he's back to random psycho. It proved a point to the teller, yes, but that isn't presented as the motivation for the murder.
Overall, on a personal level, I'm beginning to lose interest in the story. I'll still help out with the editing and such, keep my eye out for it, but my interest is on the wane, just so you know. Same old, same old is the feel I'm getting. I hope this helps though!
Cheers